Lessons
by Out of Options
Summary: Michael gets schooled.
1. Chapter 1

J picked at the label on his 7th, no 8th, beer. He had a bit of a buzz going but it was nowhere near enough to get rid of the churning in his stomach. He had nowhere to go and no one to turn to. His mood was about as black as it could get.

He couldn't stand being around Smurf any more. Coming into bathroom when he was showering was bad enough but that morning she had tried to... He felt sick just thinking about it. No wonder his mother had turned into a junkie and his uncles were all different colors of fucked up. He'd lit out with nothing more than the walking around money that he had in his jeans' pocket. Enough for a motel for the night or to get him wasted. Getting wasted had won without a fight but he wished to god that he had taken the time to grab his wallet from the kitchen counter.

He had 50 bucks left. This was definitely the time for spirits. If nothing else, they would make him not care about crashing in his car. Hopefully it would also help him not care about how messed up his life was. Right now, he just needed to get the barman's attention. Sadly, he knew that this could take a while. The skeezy hipster prick was more interested in hitting on chicks than serving drinks.

Nobody knew him this far along the coast. The name Cody still carried weight here, but J was too new on the scene to be recognized as one of them without making a thing of it. So, while it meant he could stay off his family's radar, it also meant that he came way lower down the barman's list of priorities than whatever woman he was currently trying to talk in to bed.

This time was no exception. J knew that he should move on to another bar but even that seemed too much effort in his current mood, and this anonymous tourist place suited him. After a few frustrating minutes he gave up on trying to get service and started to watch the woman barman was talking to instead. And she was definitely a woman, not a girl. Mid 20s, with dyed red hair swept up into some kind of fancy knot on the top of her head, she didn't have the same lithe body as Nicky or Mia, or even the ex-junkie leanness of his old teacher. But if her ass was not as pert as the ones he was used to, and her legs and waist were chunkier than he preferred, she made up for it with a rack of epic proportions. He could see it jiggling enticingly beneath her vest top every time the barman made her laugh.

Fuck scotch, he thought with a maudlin sigh. If he could just snuggle up against her he'd be set for the night. He shifted in his seat to make room for his burgeoning erection and was so distracted that he knocked the remains of his last beer flying. The sound of shattering glass coinciding precisely with a break in the music.

'Fuck it!'

All eyes in the place were on him now. Oh, very fucking smooth, he thought, and his face burned with embarrassment. The barman said something to the red head and she laughed again. He could feel her eyes on him. Man, he hated that fucking barman, but at least the rush of blood to his face had made the swelling in his dick subside. He didn't want her to think he was a pervert as well as an idiot.

As the barman began to clean up the spilled beer and shards of broken bottle, Michael shifted along the bar to a clean spot. To his surprise, the woman took this as an opportunity to start talking to him.

'You look like you're having the same kind of day as me.' Her accent was odd. Not local for sure. She smiled crookedly at him and sidled closer, hips swaying invitingly.

J turned to face her and relaxed back against the bar. He considered at her appraisingly, not bothering to hide the direction of his gaze. She was older than he'd first though. Early 30s at least. Fine lines appeared in her delicate skin when she smiled. Nevertheless, her eyes were kind and compassionate. She might have been laughing but he could tell that it hadn't been at him. He wanted desperately to fall into her arms and ask her to take care of him.

'I've had better.' Despite his best efforts, he sounded like a sulky child.

'Have a drink with me then.' She smiled again and popped the remains of a bottle of scotch on the bar. 'Maybe that will turn things around for both of us.' Gesturing to the barman, she said. 'Hey mate, could you bring us another glass?'

A moment later the barman slammed a shot glass down next to J, pissed at being usurped. J smirked. Things were looking up already.

'How old are you, kid?' The woman asked quietly as she poured then both a glass.

J bridled. 'I'm not a kid. I'm 22.'

She laughed and moved nearer. They were so close now that could almost feel the heat of her body through his shirt. 'I asked you how old you were, not what it says on your fake ID.'

'20.' He stood up a little taller and ran his fingers through his hair so that there was no way she could fail to note the breadth of his shoulders or the fine muscling in his arms and chest.

'Well they certainly grow them pretty round here', she said pertly. She took a step back and looked him up and down as if she was giving him marks out of ten. Meeting his eyes unashamedly, she poured them both another drink and passed one to him, her fingers resting lightly on the back of his hand as she did so. 'Must be all the sunshine and fresh sea air.'

J's dick responded by trying to make another break for freedom.

* * *

He wasn't sure who suggested it but 30 minutes later they were walking out of the bar arm in arm with a fresh bottle of scotch. The woman, Lissa, appeared to have a stomach made of lead because she was walking and talking like she hadn't touched a drop. Prizing the car keys out of his hands she drove the six blocks to the motel where she was staying.

They barely managed inside the room before they were on each other. Lissa pushed J back against the door so roughly that his head bounced off the cheap laminate; the unopened bottle of scotch dropped to the floor and rolled off under the dresser where it lay forgotten. They kissed frantically as they ground against one another. The last few neurons firing in J's brain were thanking the gods for his good luck. Despite the booze he'd consumed his dick was already hard enough to smash through concrete.

Abruptly, Lissa backed away leaving J gasping with frustration. With a lopsided grin that he was rapidly growing to love, she took hold of the front of his shirt with both hands and ripped it open. Buttons popped, and fabric ripped, but J couldn't even begin to give a damn. And when Lissa sank to her knees in front of him and unzipped his flies, he thought that all his Christmases had come at once. But that was nothing to the feeling of being in her mouth.

Nicky always sucked him off like a girl trying to deep throat a lollypop – all happy licks and awkward gagging. Mia, on the other hand, had made it clear from the first that giving head was something that only whores did. Lissa was something else entirely. Her eyes were locked on his, and she gave every sign that she enjoyed having him in her mouth. If it wasn't for the booze, he would have come the first time her tongue laved around the head of his dick. As it was he was hard pressed to last longer than a couple of minutes. In the end the feel of her hand cupping his balls was enough to tip him over the edge. He tried to restrain himself, but his hands knotted roughly in her hair and he couldn't hold back a couple of hip thrusts as he came. Concerned that he'd hurt her, he gently stroked her cheek as he pulled out of her mouth but Lissa appeared unperturbed.

Hypnotized, J watched her swallow and then lick the last drop of come from the head of his dick. 'Let's go to bed, pretty boy', she said happily. 'Now I've taken the edge off, you can show me just how grateful you are.'

J couldn't have resisted her, even if he'd wanted to.

* * *

Later when then were laying together sweaty and exhausted, he found himself pouring his heart out to her; his mum, the family business, even goddam Smurf and her weird looks and inappropriate touching. Eventually she gathered him up in her arms and rocked him against her. She stroked his back and murmured inconsequential endearments into his hair. Physically and emotionally spent he eventually drifted off to sleep.

J woke at daybreak with a pounding head, a sour taste in his mouth, and a burning need to urinate. He hoped that the motel had complimentary toiletries because he was fairly sure that he smelt like he'd just come off a three-day bender. Trying not to wake Lissa, he wriggled to the edge of the bed and slipped out from between the sheets.

'Where the fuck do you think you're going?', Lissa said, instantly awake, grabbing his wrist to prevent him moving.

J looked down at her, face unreadable. She wasn't so pretty in the harsh morning light but when she quirked her lips into a smile he felt his dick react. Playing it cool, he shrugged. 'Shower.'

'Oh hell no. Last night you were desperate to get into my bed but you never did quite manage to make it worth my while.'

'What do you mean?' He was sure he remembered her being plenty appreciative the night before.

She snorted. 'I'm not some silly teenager who's so happy that the boy with the puppy dog eyes has paid her some attention that she only wants to please him. When I'm with a man I expect to get my rocks off.' Her smile and the unspoken promise in her eyes took the sting from her words. 'You've got five minutes to get your sexy ass in order and then I'm dragging you back to bed so you can make good on your promise from last night.'

J suddenly found that he was feeling much, much better.

* * *

'Stay in bed, honey. I'm just off to get us some breakfast.' Lissa pulled her vest top over her head and checked her reflection in the mirror, pouting slightly to check her lipstick was applied correctly. 'There's a diner just down the road. What do you want?'

'Pancakes?' Watching the swell of her breasts as turned to face him, remembering what it felt like to take one of her plump nipples between his teeth, J found that he didn't really care what she brought back.

'Good choice. Give me 20 minutes.'

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Lissa spun on her heels and sashayed out of the room, closing the door firmly behind her. Once she was safely gone, Jay laid back in the bed, head resting in his cupped hands. He felt better than he had done in ages and he ached in all the right places. He hoped she wouldn't be too long getting breakfast because he really wanted to fuck her again. To show her that he had paid attention to everything she'd taught him that morning. Just the thought of it, of her, made him rock hard again.

He realised that if he didn't take care of himself while she was out he'd come the minute he touched her, and he wanted to make it last. Dragging himself off the bed he made his way to the bathroom, his throbbing cock leading the way.

On the vanity mirror, outlined in lipstick, it said _Check the drawer in the nightstand._

Confused he went back to the bedroom. In the drawer he found a note written on motel stationery.

 _Kid, it's going to take more than one night for me to teach you everything you need to know. Call me when you're ready for your second lesson._ Her number was scrawled beneath it. Then it said PS. _Thanks for the ride._

He stared at the note for a moment in confusion, then, in dawning comprehension, he went to the window. When he pulled back the curtain, he was not even slightly surprised to see that his car was missing from the motel parking lot. Going through his things, he soon realised she had taken not only his keys, but his phone, his watch, and his last $50. There was no help for it - he would have to go crawling back to his family.

But despite it all he couldn't help smiling to himself. Fuck – that that had been some night.

* * *

J never seems to get much love on these forums but hopefully this will find some fans. There are more lessons to come if anyone is interested. :-)

Thanks to the person who spotted the erroneous reference to Michael in this footnote. I was watching Peaky Blinders whilst I was writing!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The next time they met J almost didn't recognize her. Gone was the slightly seedy bar room queen and in her place was a faded, almost instantly forgettable schoolmarm with a mousy brown bob and terrible taste in shoes. It was only when she flashed him a brief lopsided smile that he caught a glimpse of the woman who had hypnotized him.

Lissa had picked the venue, a run-down diner in the heart of an equally run-down neighborhood, and he regretted not suggesting somewhere nicer. The stink of slightly rancid fat had hit him as soon as he'd opened the door. It did not sit well with his hangover and by the time he'd slid into the booth opposite her he had resolved to order nothing but very strong black coffee.

Though it was 8am on a weekday, the place was half empty. Most of the people in there looked as though they were crawling their way homeward rather than heading out for work. Other than the woman he was going to meet, and an exhausted looking waitress, no one even looked up when he went in. This was the sort of place that only the quietly desperate or the hopelessly lost ever went. No one had any time or inclination to get involved with other people's problems, they were far too busy avoiding their own.

'Hi J', Lissa said pleasantly as he sat down. 'I'm so glad you rang me.' This time her accent was firmly midwestern.

'You have some of my things.'

'No, Mr. Cody, I had some of your things. Now I have the money I got from selling them.' Again, he got a flash of her smile. 'Did you know that your watch had a tracker in it?' She asked conversationally. 'Very high end.'

'You know who I am.' It wasn't a question. 'Which means you know who my family are - and yet you still thought this was a good idea.'

'I didn't know who you were at first. When I spotted you in that bar you were just another easy mark with a nice car, a flashy watch, and an ass that I could bounce a quarter off of. Now tell me what you remember from your first lesson?'

J felt himself flush as he recalled their encounter in the motel bedroom and he cleared his throat awkwardly. 'Um… well, I…'

Lissa snorted with laughter. Her face was incredulous. 'You seriously thought that I…? Look kid, if you want _those_ kinds of lessons you need to take yourself uptown and find a high-end hooker who's looking for a pet project. I've got better things to do with my time.'

J felt his face grow even redder and he scowled; he hated being laughed at. 'I'm not a fucking kid!' He ground out through clenched teeth.

Lissa's face grew instantly serious but she still had a wicked sparkle in her eyes. 'True. I think that we established that to our mutual satisfaction on the… what was it? Fifth attempt?'

J growled and went to slide out of the booth.

'Don't go, please!'

Lissa's arm snaked out and she caught his wrist in a firm grip. Despite the 'please' he knew that it had been more of an order than a request and he wouldn't be able to get free of her without causing a scene. Pretending that it had been his idea all along, he sat back down. Calling over to the waitress who was dozing behind the counter, he had her bring him a coffee.

'So why don't you tell me what this actually lesson was?'

Lissa was silent while the waitress poured out coffee for them both. As soon as the woman was sufficiently far away so as to not overhear their conversation she said. 'Never flash a $5,000 watch in a dive like that unless you're playing an angle, never spill all your precious secrets to a complete stranger no matter how kind they seem, and in any given situation if you can't tell who the mark is, it's probably you.' Another quick smile. 'Oh, and on the other matter, always make sure that the lady you're with has at least as many orgasms as you do.'

J wanted to argue, to deny the truth of what she said but she was totally correct on all points. He slid down in his seat, any hint of bravado gone.

'Tell me why you weren't shocked by the fact that you had a tracker in your watch. It was Smurf, right?' Lissa's voice was surprisingly gentle. She took one of his hands lightly in hers and and when he looked up he saw concern writ large on her face. He desperately wanted to confide in her. He opened his mouth to tell her everything but then he saw a trace of something else hiding almost imperceptibly beneath the sympathetic smile.

'This is lesson two, right?' He said stonily, withdrawing his hand from hers.

'Nope – I was just checking that you hadn't already forgotten lesson one. Lesson two is that no one can be trusted - not family, not friends, no one.'

'Except you, right?' He raised one eyebrow mockingly. He wondered how she would try to play him, whether he'd be impressed.

She shook her head brusquely. 'Not even me. Everyone has an angle. Why should I be any different? The best you can ever hope for is to find someone whose interests align, however temporarily, with your own.'

J relaxed back in his seat and draped his arms along the back of the booth. Despite himself he was intrigued. 'You'd better start talking. You're not the only one who has better things to do with their time.'

'Let's just say that I have a score to settle with Smurf and from your drunken ramblings last week I get the feeling that you do too.'

J regarded her levelly. Inside his mind was racing, but he kept his face impassive. He was learning.

'And?' He shrugged slightly.

'Baz and I were in foster care together – before Smurf got hold of him. He was feral, but he was kind to me. We caught up again about ten, twelve years ago. She fucked him up, J, I mean she really fucked with his head and now he's dead.' Her eyes filled with tears. 'I will get pay-back.'

'Why should I care?'

'You think that her putting her hand on your dick is the worst she's capable of?' Lissa shook her head angrily and a single tear broke free and rolled its way down her cheek. 'Someone has to stop her, but I don't have the access and you don't have the skills. Together we can give her the end she deserves.'

Rising abruptly, she pulled on her coat and began to get her things together. She was crying openly now. The proper kind of crying, all blotchy skin and snot. 'Just think about it. Then call me.'

She tried to pull her keys from her handbag but only succeeded in dumping the bag's contents out onto the floor. J leapt up and began to help her pick up her things, managing to get an eyeful of her rack as she bent down – it was as impressive as he remembered. He couldn't avoid the memory of nuzzling against the silky skin and the thought must have shown on his face. When Lissa saw him looking, she gave him a playful shoulder barge, and smiled wanly.

'Pervert!' Drying her eyes, she looked at him seriously. 'Even if you don't want to get on board with this, remember what I said. You can't trust anyone.' And then she was gone.

J finished his coffee slowly, running and rerunning the conversation through in his head. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting from the meeting, but it hadn't been an offer to work together to bring down his grandmother. After 40 minutes of bemused cogitation, and half a dozen refills of bitter black coffee, he had still not come to a firm conclusion. However, he knew that he couldn't just sit around in this shitty diner until he made up his mind. He reached into his hoodie pocket to get his wallet. With a complete lack of surprise, he realized that she'd boosted it.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

He arrived 20 minutes early to their next meeting, hoping to see her arrive and glean something about where she'd started from, but he was disappointed; she was already there. Cotton candy hair she'd said so he'd recognize her, and she hadn't been kidding. Her wig was bubble gum pink with a retro corkscrew perm. It made her stand out even amongst the rest of the garishly dressed whores working the corner.

As he pulled up across the street, he saw Lissa giving out to a man who'd tried to pick her up. The rest of the women were hooting with laughter as she sent the unlucky john off in an avalanche of insults and obscene hand gestures. High fives and cigarettes were exchanged amongst the working girls and then, spotting him, Lissa sauntered over to where he was waiting, boobs escaping over the lace of her crop top, and hips rolling in an exaggerated fashion. She may or may not have been a whore in the past, he couldn't judge, but she could certainly convince a man think that was one now, even down to the bitter and exhausted look in her eyes under all the make up and the fake smile. Cheap perfume completed the illusion, and he rolled down the window nonchalantly the moment she got in to the passenger seat.

Lissa rolled her eyes. 'Just drive, J. The guys from Vice will be finishing their freebies any minute now and we don't want to get picked up when they start guilt tripping.'

'Where to?'

'Take a left onto fifth and keep on going. There's a flea-pit motel just by the off-ramp on Lexington. I've got a room there.'

Without a word, J shifted the car into drive and pulled away.

A full half hour later, they eased into the parking lot of the Kozee Motel; it didn't look cozy at all. A rough, sweaty looking man in a stained wife beater was seated on a lounger outside of the office, chugging on a beer.

'Y' all right, Trixie?' he called, as they walked towards her room. His smirk was as unwholesome as the rest of him.

'You know it, Petey baby', she replied. Her accent was a full-on South Carolina drawl now, full of sunshine and peaches. 'I got me a fresh one.' Pinching J's ass, she gave Pete a saucy wink which made him gurgle like a drain. J flushed with embarrassment. He was getting sick of being the butt of her jokes.

The moment the door to the motel room closed, J turned on Lissa. Grabbing her arm, he hissed, 'Why the fuck do you have to keep drawing attention to us?'

'Get your hands off me you stupid fuck.' She pushed him off her roughly enough that he had to take a step back. 'Think about it. Furtive won't cut it around here.' Even angry, her accent didn't falter for a moment. 'Pete'd think I was trying to cut him out, and then he'd be in my face the whole damn time. And who was I drawing attention to anyways? If anyone around here asks him about us who do you think he's going to describe – sweet little Lissa and J sneaking around, or Trixie Dixie the good-humored part-time whore with the pink hair and sassy wiggle, plus some random preppy kid she brought here for a $100 fuck?'

J's anger subsided abruptly. She was right of course. 'Lesson three?' he asked, through gritted teeth. He was getting mightily sick of feeling like a fool around her. Equally, he was a little disappointed to hear that she was actually a whore. His feeling clearly showed in his face and her reaction was equally visceral.

'Damn right, Lesson 3', she snarled. 'Look, someone will always remember you, so make sure you give them something to focus on. If they're distracted by your outrageous lisp or your stupid bangs or whatever, then they won't remember anything that matters. Pete knows me as a sweet girl forced to bring men home occasionally to support her junkie sister. He talks his cut but he feels sorry for me, and he doesn't know that the men I bring back are mostly colleagues like you. I pay him cos it stops him asking questions. You need to learn to show different faces to different people. Fake it!' She flashed him her crooked smile. Completely against his will, he felt his dick twitch. He didn't like the power she had over him.

'You know what, that smile of yours is getting real fucking irritating.' It was childish, but he couldn't help it.

Her face shut down instantly. 'Funny, that's just what my daddy said the first time he broke my jaw. I was six. You ain't as scary as my daddy.'

J suddenly missed the smile. He shifted awkwardly.

She shrugged off the bad memories as if they were nothing. 'Look kid - you've got two problems. First, you're too sensitive, too insecure. You can't take a joke. You think everything is an insult. And if you can't keep your temper, you'll lose your focus when it matters… and that'll cost you.'

Keeping his face neutral to demonstrate how little his temper was an issue, he said 'And my second problem?'

'Your second problem is that you don't understand the importance of the basics. You've got the big stuff down no question. That con with the notary was genius but it's the small things which will get you killed.'

J cringed internally as he realized just how much he had revealed that first night, but he kept his cool. 'And so?'

'And so, we start from first principles.' J looked at her quizzically. 'Ha! I thought you'd like that', she said with a grin. 'You look like a bit of a nerd.'

For a moment J was insulted, but the he realized that not only was she testing him she was actually spot on. He was a nerd - the minutia of the world he now operated in fascinated him. Why should he be ashamed of it? Particularly when there was so much to be gained. He put his head back and roared with laughter. Charmed, Lissa eventually joined in and they collapsed side by side on the sagging bed, grasping their sides in pain.

They spent the next few hours practicing dipping and palming. What Lissa could do with a pack of cards or a wedge of dollar bills made J's eyes boggle, but the fun bit was when J tried to pick whatever pocket or bag Lissa was hiding her loot in. Once he knew the basics, she hid small bundles of cash in various places around her person and challenged him to use whatever means he could, be it bumps, trips, or misdirection, to lift some or all of it off her. If she couldn't identify where he had dipped from then he won that round. He usually failed but he enjoyed the challenge and he couldn't deny that the chance to rub up against her was welcome.

Their eye meets came thicker and faster as the afternoon progressed. There was something between them even if they tried to deny it. What was an age gap of ten years or so0 when they were engaged in a plot to take down an evil bitch queen? Every once in a while, for Pete's benefit, they bounced up and down on the bed and pretended they were fucking, which sent them both into paroxysms of laughter.

Eventually J managed to pick one of Lissa's side pockets without her noticing using the simple expedient of groping her ass and drawing her in for a kiss.

'If it works, it works right?' he said with a grin as he nuzzled the sensitive spot just below her right ear. He took the clip of money he'd lifted from her jacket pocket and flicked the notes over the bedspread behind them. 'I've always wanted to fuck on a pile of money.'

'Oh wow – 30 whole dollars!' Grinning, Lissa shucked off her clothes and pulled J down on the bed to join her. 'Never thought I'd get to bang a Rockefeller!'


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Try as he might, J never could quite manage to find where Lissa actually lived. It certainly wasn't at the Cozee Motel. The manager there claimed he hadn't seen her in weeks. J had dressed carefully for the occasion – smart chinos, freshly pressed button-down shirt, and loafers. With the addition of slicked back hair and a varsity jacket slung over his shoulders he had looked every inch the big-headed preppy rich kid. Bringing his BMW convertible to a screeching halt in the middle of the lot, he had strutted arrogantly over to where Petey was laid out catching the late-morning rays and working his way through a crate of beer.

Affecting an educated Southern accent, J had drawled, 'Good morning, sir. I'm looking for a friend of mine. Goes by the name of Trixie. I haven't seen her around in a while and I'm getting a mite concerned. She always said you were a good friend to her, sir, so I'm hoping you can set my mind at ease.'

Petey looked up at him stupidly, blinking his piggy little eyes as he tried to focus. Evidently, he'd been drinking for a while. Eventually the man managed to marshal his thoughts into some semblance of order.

'Lil' Trixie Dixie?' He slurred, one hand moving down to scratch vigorously at his crotch. 'Ent seen her pretty face for a week or more. She even took her stuff from the lockup out back.' Petey took a long draw on his beer and then a new idea shuffled painfully to the front of his brain. 'Her sister's back in rehab, maybe?'

'Do you happen to have a forwarding address for her, sir?' J enquired politely, hiding his revulsion behind a thick layer of faux Southern politeness.

Petey laughed, long and hard. 'Why the fuck would I have an address for some two-bit whore? Girls like her come and go here every day. Come back in a few weeks and I won't even remember her face let alone her name.'

Disgusted and frustrated, J spun out of there like the hounds of hell were after him. Another dead end. Later he swapped back the license plates on the convertible. He didn't expect anyone to link a cocky southern frat boy with the Cody family but he didn't want to take the risk.

None of his other attempts to track her down were any more successful either. He went to all the places they had ever visited together – some people remembered her hair or an accent or a mannerism, a few even remembers the fake name she had given them, but no one knew where she could be found. Following her was useless too. Somehow or other she always managed to lose him without even seeming to try. One minute she would be there, the next she was gone. Eventually he gave up.

Conversely, Lissa appeared to have had no trouble finding Jay's bolthole – despite him never having mentioned it to her. The fact that she could track him so easily made him deeply uncomfortable. If she could do it then surely Smurf could too.

One morning, not long after dawn, Lissa had knocked briskly on his living room window, waking him from a deep, drunken slumber. Mia had fortunately chosen to spend the night with her family which saved him from having to explain who Lissa was - a conversation he certainly wasn't ready for - but he'd taken her absence, and another disturbing encounter with Smurf, as an excuse to go on a bender.

From the pain in his back when he moved, he knew that if he had spent any longer passed out on his crappy couch he would have been wrecked for the day, but that didn't mean he was happy about being forced to face his hangover quite so early. Pausing only to cue up the coffee machine, he dragged himself, grumbling under his breath, to let her in. The fierce glare of the sun made him wince and set off a powerful pounding in his temples.

This time, Lissa was dressed like an old-fashioned movie star - blonde waves hidden beneath a monochrome silk scarf, full-on scarlet lips, and ridiculously large sunglasses shading half of her face; a striking look, even for her. Without waiting to be invited in, she strode passed him and headed directly for the kitchen. J was so used to her behaviour now that he didn't even raise an eyebrow when she poured herself the first of the coffee and began searching through his refrigerator for something worth eating. It was only when she began scrambling herself a couple of eggs that he bothered to say so much as hello. He hadn't seen her in weeks but he waited until he had his own cup of coffee before he went as far as trying to ask why she was there.

Lissa ignored him, acting as if his questions were no more than the chirping of some insignificant insect in the wilderness. It was only when she was forking up her food that he saw that she was shaking, her silverware clitter-clattering against the plate as if she was in the grip of hypothermia.

For the first time J studied her, really took everything in. Not just the new wig or the new persona, not even the generous rack that she seldom managed to hide. Instead he thought he caught a glimpse of the real woman behind the ever-changing facade. Now, along with the trembling, her body language was unusually defensive, and when he reached out to take one of her hands she pulled back abruptly before visibly forcing herself to relax.

Whatever had happened had clearly shaken her badly and for some reason she had come to him for sanctuary. He couldn't deny that he felt less responsibility for her than he had for Nicky, or even Mia, but part of him felt a certain amount of manly pride that she felt safe with him. If he'd been slightly less sober, he would have torn off his tee and drummed his fists on his chest. He managed to limit himself to removing her oversize sunglasses and tipping her chin up so that he could look her full in the face.

He felt his jaw tighten at the sight. 'Tell me what happened,'

She turned her face away as if she was ashamed of her bruised and swollen eye. He turned her head back with a light touch against her jaw so that she was facing him again and saw her eyes narrow in pain. Evidently, under all the foundation and powder, there were more bruises forming.

'Look – you came here for a reason', he said gently. 'Just tell me.'

He saw a tear form in her undamaged eye which then rolled gently down her cheek. She sniffed and then winced again. He wasn't sure which of the two of them was most embarrassed by this small sign of weakness.

'I was running a sweetheart con on a dude down at the marina. Turned out he was running one on me. We could have just smiled and gone our own ways but he was pissed about the opportunities he missed while he was wasting his time with me. Gave me the full on Grifters' experience.' She shifted in her seat slightly and grimaced. Evidently her face wasn't the only part of her which had taken some blows

'There's a lesson here, isn't there.' J said thoughtfully. 'That's why you came.'

'Yes', she said softly. 'this is a dangerous business. Most people don't like to be cheated – people in the life least of all.'

J thought back to Smurf's lawyer, Morgan, bobbing in the sea, her desperate pleas for help swallowed up by the sound of the boat's engine as he left her to her lonely death. This was one lesson that he didn't need.


	5. Chapter 5

I didn't like the first version of this chapter so I rewrote it. I hope you think that this is an improvement.

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J and Lissa danced around each other all through the summer - running little cons here and there, lifting wallets, boosting cars, occasionally falling into bed together. They did just enough to earn themselves a name for reliability with the players along the coast, where no one knew or cared who the Codys were.

Their growing reputation got them invited to be bit players in other people's bigger scams, happy winners (or phlegmatic losers) in a fake casino, bidders in a rigged auction, even just 'passers-by' in a crowd scene. Whatever scenario could provide J with a teachable moment, or some cash for their war chest, they signed up to.

J proved to be a quick study. His intelligence and preppy good looks made him seem totally trustworthy, encouraging even the most sceptical of marks to relax or take a chance on whatever dream he was selling. Lyssa helped him change his outward appearance so convincingly between gigs that they even managed to swindle some people more than once. He also became very adept at lying to Smurf.

As they worked, J kept a careful eye on Lyssa, looking for any opportunity to find out more about her and her habits. He sought out people who had worked with her in the past, probing them for the smallest of details. He called in a favour to put trackers on some of her cloned credit cards in order to see where she shopped. He followed her whenever he could. It took him three months, but eventually he managed to find out where she really lived.

'Well your timing both sucks and blows.' Lissa slipped out of the motel room and pulled the door closed behind her. 'What the fuck do you want?'

J had been expecting her to laugh at his cleverness, the proof that he was finally getting to her level. Instead her manner was guarded and her usually expressive mouth was compressed into a sour line.

In the fierce afternoon light, her dark brown hair was dishevelled, cropped tendrils curling damply against her neck. He didn't think he'd seen her real hair properly before - it had always been a succession of eye-catching wigs or a few glimpses whilst they were doing something more interesting. This 'real' look suited her slightly sallow complexion.

She was dressed, but only just – a wife-beater over, well, nothing as far as he could see. Her breasts pressed against the white cotton, and they jiggled about distractingly as she danced on her toes apparently trying to avoid the sensitive soles of her feet coming into contact with the superheated tarmac of the motel lot. Despite the heat, her main aim seemed to be diverting his attention from the room behind her. What was she hiding?

He reached out to pull her in for a kiss and caught the garlicky stink of sex emanating from her. Somehow, he wasn't surprised. She pulled back, roughly shaking off his hands, and her ass bumped back against the door. It creaked open lazily and he was even less surprised by what he saw next,

Over her shoulder, he could see straight to the well-used bed. There was a man in it, leaning back against the pillows like a sultan in his hareem, covers loosely swaged around his hips. His olive skin was warm against the stark white sheets. Even from the door J could see the man's gang tats.

Totally unphased, the man laid his head back against the wall and smirked. The dark shadows in his hollow cheeks, together with his pointed chin and well-satisfied air, gave him a vulpine look. 'You said you had been in one place for too long, chica', he drawled. 'If even this puppy can find you, you must be right.'

Intellectually J knew that Lissa had her own life but such clear evidence that she was having sex with someone else – particularly an arrogant gangbanger like this - stung. Despite his attempt at a poker face he could feel his lip curling in distaste. 'Sorry', he sneered. 'I didn't realise you were working.'

The man in the bed bridled at his words and rolled his shoulders showing off his leanly muscled chest and arms. It was primal, threatening, for all he was tucked up in bed. The smirk turned into a snarl. 'Don't call my woman a whore. You don't want me to make something of it'

Lissa rolled her eyes. 'J – you know I'm not a whore. Manny - I said he had potential, not that he was a puppy. And I am definitely not 'your woman'.' For the first time, J thought he caught the sound of Lissa's true voice, the voice of the girl who grew up in group homes and foster care with Baz. For a moment he missed the man who should have been his father.

The two men caught each other's eyes and they shared a moment of instinctive, rueful embarrassment, like two young boys caught in some small bit of mischief. The fellow-feeling lasted until Lissa indicated that J should join them in the room.

'Now if you've both finished waving your dicks at each other', she said calmly, 'why don't we take advantage of the situation and get a few things straight.' Gesturing to a half-empty bottle on the dresser she smiled at J and added, 'Help yourself to a drink.'

Manny levered himself off the bed and, with absolutely no thought to his own nakedness, stretched to his full height. The man was trying to discomfort him, J thought, but after months with his uncles, who saw nudity as their natural state, J simply rolled his eyes.

Lissa huffed, but J could see a little smile pulling at the corner of her mouth as she watched the man strut over to his discarded clothes. She even tilted her head to get a better look at his ass as he reached to get his pants.

The gang-banger's body was a disturbing work of art. Though criss-crossed with scars – puckered marks caused by bullets and long thin slivers where he'd been slashed with a knife or razor – it was the ink that stood out most notably on his sculpted flesh. Around his neck, and coiling thickly down his body, was a snake. Its delicately etched hood was spread across his throat and its fangs were sited directly over his larynx. When he spoke, or swallowed, the creature looked as if it was preparing to strike. Its tail was threaded through three ornate R symbols low on his abdomen - Respect, Reputation, Revenge. Around his eyes were half a dozen blurry black-filled tears and dots; these, along with the random skulls and crosses on his arms and torso, looked mostly prison issue.

After a few tense minutes sizing each other up the two men found themselves sat in garden chairs and sipping awkwardly on high quality lime-spiked cachaça. Lissa had done her best to make proper introductions and had then risked a trip to the motel office for extra ice for their drinks. The trip had been unnecessary – the atmosphere was cold enough to burn them all to the bone. Sipping his drink grimly, J wondered whether this lesson was learning how to swallow his own humiliation.


End file.
